Between Alnwick and the sea, the Aln winds its way past Alnmouth Station, formerly known as Bilton Junction, and past Lesbury, a pretty little tree-shaded village, to the sandy flats by Alnmouth where it ends its journey in the North Sea.

The Till, by whose side we shall next wander, flows in the opposite direction, for that historic stream is a tributary of “Tweed’s fair river, broad and deep,” and curves from the Cheviots round to the North-west, where it enters the larger stream at Tillmouth.  It begins life as the Breamish, tumbling down the slopes of Cushat Law within sight of all the giants of the Cheviot range.  The Linhope Burn, a fellow traveller down these steep hillsides, forms in its course the Linhope Spout, one of the largest waterfalls to be found amongst the Cheviots, before it joins the Breamish, which then flows through a country of green slopes and grassy levels to Ingram.  This village possesses an old church with massive square tower and windows which suggest the fortress rather than the church.  The heights which stretch eastward from the Cheviots and bound the valley of the Till add not a little to the beauty and variety of the scenery in this district.

The little stream, which turns northward near Glanton railway station, moves on in loops and windings past Beanley, which Earl Gospatric held in former days by virtue of the curious office of being a kind of official mediator between the monarchs of England and Scotland when they came to blows; and past Bewick, with its little Norman church buried from sight amongst leafy trees.  The effigy of a lady in the chancel of this church is said to be that of Matilda, wife of Henry I. This is the more likely in that the lands of Bewick formed part of her dowry, and were given by her to the monks of Tynemouth Priory.  At Bewick Bridge the little stream ceases to be the Breamish, and becomes the Till; as an old rhyme has it—­

  “The foot of Breamish, and head of Till,
  Meet together at Bewick Mill”

Some miles to the northward, the Till reaches the little village of Chatton, having, on the way, passed a little to the westward of Chillingham Castle and Park, where is the famous herd of wild cattle.  Roscastle, a craggy height covered with heather, stands at the edge of the chase, and looks over a wild and romantic scene of moorland and pastureland, deep glens and heathery hills.  The Vicarage at Chatton is another of those north-country vicarages in which an old pele-tower forms part of the modern residence.  On the top of Chatton Law is an ancient British encampment, with inscribed circles similar to those on Bewick Hill.

From Chatton, the loops and windings of the Till grow more insistent, and the little stream adds miles to its length by reason of its frequent doubling on its tracks; this, however, but gives an added charm to the landscape, as the silvery gleams of the winding river come unexpectedly into view again and again.  It flows on through Glendale, with which attractive region we have already made acquaintance; and on its banks are the two prettiest villages in Northumberland—­Ford and Etal.